


To Reflect

by nicnc



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Short One Shot, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 10:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicnc/pseuds/nicnc
Summary: “I loved you.”It was a bitter confession to a saint that did not exist**Steve dies. Tony reflects.





	To Reflect

**Author's Note:**

> This was a writing warm up. Doesn't make much sense but we'll hope for the best I guess.

Tony could feel the coldness settle deep in his bones and sliver under his skin, the way it wrapped around him like ice was all to addicting. The way he felt his heart beat quicken and his breathing pick up, and the gentle strokes of his own salty tears pour down his face. It was calm. It was an element of gentleness he hadn’t felt in all too long. It was like the feeling you get when you ride a bike for the first time, free exhilarating and controlling.

But then you fall off, and scrape your knee and get blooded hands, and the real pains set in.  

If anyone asked him if the pain had set in yet, if he had finally felt his heart rip in two or if he had screamed his throat horse, he would say no. He would say that the grief was enough and then he would go about his day. But it was a beautiful, terrible lie.

He felt it, he felt as his blood ran cold but his head held hot. He felt as his eyes ran out of tears and he could see the colour from them drain. He heard as his last scream, last plead ran horse and croaked right at the end. And he felt his fists clench onto a life that was no longer there until they bled. Until they bled the confirmation that he was the one living when he shouldn’t and that he was the one feeling when he couldn’t.

And he would stand there sometimes, in the dead of night, letting the darkness shadow over him and let his worn mask of security and confidence fall, and even though his insides were screaming and shouting and begging for the emotions to slip just this once, to let him know how he felt even if it was too late for the words to be heard. He would whisper, quiet broken words past the dried tears on his cheeks.

“I loved you.”                                                                        

It was a bitter confession to a saint that did not exist. A shadow. A man who walked with a halo around his head and lightening at his feet. He knew people wondered if he was a God. An immortal who had graced the earth with his presence. Tony knew better. Always did. He was no immortal God. No higher being with good intentions. He was every good thing and every bad thing.

He was. And Tony loved him. The tense left a foul taste in his mouth, like eating a lemon or letting blood fill his mouth. He loved him. He _loves_ him.

He never told him, though he probably knew anyway. He filled him and tore him apart like he was made of glass. He seeped into his lungs and blood and consumed him. His words were melodies and his smile unique. “Infatuated” they used then “obsessed” they use now.

“I love you.” He whispered.

The “I know” was left never said.


End file.
